In John 11:35, we read the following:
Jesus wept.
Rather easy
to interpret, right? Well, not really.
About Jesus
weeping, here are just some theological and/or exegetical questions that immediately arise:
Is this
concerning the humanity of Jesus only? If so, how does one avoid Nestorianism?
Is this
concerning the person of Jesus? If so, how does one avoid Eutychianism?
As Jesus is
a single person (per Chalcedon, for e.g.) how can one understand this in light
of divine immutability?
Does God
have emotion? As Jesus is the God-Man, how does this work?
Relating to the above, how does this relate to the doctrine of absolute divine simplicity (and even the eastern view of divine simplicity while rejecting absolute divine simplicity)
Can Jesus experience emotion now, after his resurrection, ascension, and exaltation?
Is there any symbolism behind Jesus' action, like his cursing of the fig tree?
Is there any interpretive significance between the verb used in John 11:35 to describe Jesus' weeping (δακρυω) and the use of a different verb for the Jews in v. 33 (κλαιω)?
It should
also be noted that the phrase "Jesus wept" is a phrase used, like
"d-mn" when one is frustrated here in Ireland.
Consider
the following from a Reformed expository commentary on the Gospel of John:
Questions are
raised about what it was that aroused Jesus’ emotions. This issue is
complicated by the fact that the word describing Jesus’ feelings is generally
used to express sternness and even anger. It is not just that Jesus was
troubled but that he was indignant. Jesus was not merely saddened but outraged
at the scene before him.
Some commentators
argue that Jesus was appalled by the hypocritical mourning of the visitors from
Jerusalem. After all, they represented people who hated Jesus and all that he
stood for; what were they doing with Jesus’ friends at a time like this?
Alternatively, some state that Jesus was unhappy with the unbelief implied by
Mary’s tears.
Our best guide to
understanding Jesus’ attitude is his own statement of what was on his mind.
Jesus did not demand, “What are you doing here?” or “What is wrong with you?”
Instead, he asked, “Where have you laid him?” (John 11:34). This shows that it
was the fact of Lazarus’s death that burdened his soul. It is death itself that
rouses Jesus’ anger. Herman Ridderbos writes that Jesus’ emotion “is the
revulsion of everything that is in him against the power of death.”
We often see
Jesus depicted in artwork as almost passive and aloof. But as Jesus approaches
the grave of his friend to wage warfare against death, he comes with a
passionate zeal. No warrior ever waded into his enemy’s ranks with greater
ferocity than Jesus did in warring with death. When Jesus looks on death, he
sees the wreckage caused by sin and he sees the fingerprints of his hated
enemy, the devil. Benjamin B. Warfield notes:
Jesus approached the grave of Lazarus in a state, not of uncontrollable
grief but of inexpressible anger.… The emotion which tore his breast and
clamoured for utterance was just rage.… It is death that is the object of his
wrath, and behind death him who has the power of death, and whom he had come
into the world to destroy. Tears of sympathy may fill his eyes, but … his soul
is held by rage, and he advances to the tomb, in Calvin’s words, “as a champion
who prepares for conflict.” (Benjamin B. Warfield, The Person and Work of
Christ [Philadelphia: Presbyterian and Reformed, 1950], 115–16)
This reminds us
that even though Christians possess a glorious hope of resurrection, we are not
therefore indifferent to the outrage that is death. Jesus was not unaffected by
Lazarus’s death. Christians should feel no differently: when we fight against
death with our serving hands, with our tearful prayers, and with our gospel
witness, we are waging holy warfare under the banner of Christ. (Richard
D. Phillips, John, 2 vols. [Reformed Expository Commentary;
Phillipsburg, N.J.: P&R Publishing, 2014], 1:45-46)
Here are
some comments on this text from Athanasius, Hilary, and Calvin and how it
relates to Christology as well as issues relating to the meaning of the verb
used (δακρυω) and other
considerations:
Athanasius:
He wept and the like, as man. Other texts prove Him God. God
could not fear. He feared because His flesh feared.
54. Therefore as, when the flesh advanced, He is said to have
advanced, because the body was His own, so also what is said at the season of
His death, that He was troubled, that He wept, must be taken in the same sense.
For they, going up and down, as if thereby recommending their heresy anew,
allege; "Behold, ‘He wept,' and said, ‘Now is My soul troubled,' and He
besought that the cup might pass away; how then, if He so spoke, is He God, and
Word of the Father?" Yea, it is written that He wept, O God's enemies, and
that He said, ‘I am troubled,' and on the Cross He said, ‘Eloi, Eloi, lama
sabachthani,' that is, ‘My God, My God, why hast Thou forsaken Me?' and He
besought that the cup might pass away. Thus certainly it is written; but again
I would ask you (for the same rejoinder must of necessity be made to each of
your objections), If the speaker is mere man, let him weep and fear death, as
being man; but if He is the Word in flesh (for one must not be reluctant to
repeat), whom had He to fear being God? or wherefore should He fear death, who
was Himself Life, and was rescuing others from death? or how, whereas He said,
‘Fear not him that kills the body,' should He Himself fear? And how should He
who said to Abraham, ‘Fear not, for I am with thee,' and encouraged Moses
against Pharaoh, and said to the son of Nun, ‘Be strong, and of a good courage,'
Himself feel terror before Herod and Pilate? Further, He who succours others
against fear (for ‘the Lord,' says Scripture, ‘is on my side, I will not fear
what man shall do unto me'), did He fear governors, mortal men? did He who
Himself was come against death, feel terror of death? Is it not both unseemly
and irreligious to say that He was terrified at death or hades, whom the
keepers of the gates of hades9 saw and shuddered? But if, as you would hold,
the Word was in terror wherefore, when He spoke long before of the conspiracy
of the Jews, did He not flee, nay said when actually sought, ‘I am He?' for He
could have avoided death, as He said, ‘I have power to lay down My life, and I
have power to take it again;' and ‘No one taketh it from Me.' (Four Discourses
Against the Arians, Discourse III [NPNF2 4:423])
Hilary of
Poitiers
55. Again, how great a mystery of
word and act it is that Christ wept, that His eyes filled with tears from the
anguish of His mind . Whence came this defect in His soul that sorrow should
wring tears from His body? What bitter fate, what unendurable pain, could move
to a flood of tears the Son of Man Who descended from heaven? Again, what was
it in Him which wept? God the Word? or His human soul? For though weeping is a
bodily function, the body is but a servant; tears are, as it were, the sweat of
the agonised soul. Again, what was the cause of His weeping? Did He owe to
Jerusalem the debt of His tears, Jerusalem, the godless parricide, whom no
suffering could requite for the slaughter of Apostles and Prophets, and the
murder of her Lord Himself? He might weep for the disasters and death which
befall mankind: but could He grieve for the fall of that doomed and desperate
race? What, I ask, was this mystery of weeping? His soul wept for sorrow; was
not it the soul which sent forth the Prophets? Which would so often have
gathered the chickens together under the shadow of His wings? But God the Word
cannot grieve, nor can the Spirit weep: nor could His soul possibly do anything
before the body existed. Yet we cannot doubt that Jesus Christ truly wept.
56. No less real
were the tears He shed for Lazarus. The first question here is, What was there
to weep for in the case of Lazarus? Not his death, for that was not unto death,
but for the glory of God: for the Lord says, That sickness is not unto
death, but for the glory of God, that the Son of God may be honoured through
him. The death which was the cause of God’s
being glorified could not bring sorrow and tears. Nor was there any occasion
for tears in His absence from Lazarus at the time of his death. He says
plainly, Lazarus is dead, and I rejoice for your sakes that I was not there,
to the intent that ye may believe. His absence then, which aided the
Apostles’ belief, was not the cause of His sorrow:
for with the knowledge of Divine omniscience, He declared the death of the sick
man from afar. We can find, then, no necessity for tears, yet He wept. And
again I ask, To whom must we ascribe the weeping? To God, or the soul, or the
body? The body, of itself, has no tears except those it sheds at the command of
the sorrowing soul. Far less can God have wept, for He was to be glorified in
Lazarus. Nor is it reason to say His soul recalled Lazarus from the tomb: can a
soul linked to a body, by the power of its command, call another soul back to
the dead body from which it has departed? Can He grieve Who is about to be
glorified? Can He weep Who is about to restore the dead to life? Tears are not
for Him Who is about to give life, or grief for Him Who is about to receive
glory. Yet He Who wept and grieved was also the Giver of life. (De Trinitate,
Book X [NPNF2 9:197-98])
John Chrysostom
What did Christ reply? He made no
reply to her for the moment, nor did He repeat those words which He had also
addressed to her sister (for the crowd was numerous and it was not the
auspicious moment for such words). Instead, He merely asked a non-committal
question and so condescended to their weakness. Further, in order to confirm
the fact of His human nature, He wept a little and put off the miracle for the
present. Indeed, it was to be a great miracle and such a one as He rarely
performed, and because of it many were going to believe in Him. Therefore,
lest, if it were done in the absence of the crowds, it might prove an obstacle
to their faith and they might gain no profit because of its very greatness, He
attracted many people as witnesses by means of His humility. And in order that
He might not lose the quarry He even displayed a characteristic of human
nature, for He wept and was troubled. For He knew that grief arouses sympathy.
(John Chrysostom, Commentary on Saint John the Apostle and Evangelist:
Homilies 48–88 [trans. Thomas Aquinas Goggin; The Fathers of the Church 41;
Washington, DC: The Catholic University of America Press, 1959], Homily 63, pp.
180–181
John
Calvin on John 11:33-35:
33. He groaned in
his spirit. If Christ had not been excited to compassion by their tears, he
would rather have kept his countenance unmoved, but when, of his own accord, he
conforms to those mourners, so far as to weep along with them, he gives proof that he has
sympathy, (sumpayeia.) For the cause of this feeling is, in my opinion,
expressed by the Evangelist, when he says that Christ saw Mary and the rest
weeping. Yet I have no doubt that Christ contemplated something higher,
namely, the general misery of the whole human race; for he knew well what had
been enjoined on him by the Father, and why he was sent into the world, namely,
to free us from all evils. As he has actually done this, so he intended to show
that he accomplished it with warmth and earnestness. Accordingly, when he is
about to raise Lazarus, before granting deliverance or aid, by the groaning
of his spirit, by a strong feeling of grief, and by tears, he
shows that he is as much affected by our distresses as if he had endured them
in his own person.
But how do groaning and trouble of mind belong to the
person of the Son of God? As some reckon it absurd to say that Christ, as one
of the number of human beings, was subject to human passions, they think that
the only way in which he experienced grief or joy was, that he received in
himself those feelings, whenever he thought proper, by some secret
dispensation. It is in this sense, Augustine thinks, that the Evangelist says
that he was troubled, because other men are hurried along
by their feelings, which exercise dominion, or rather tyranny, to trouble their
minds. He considers the meaning therefore to be, that Christ, though otherwise
tranquil and free from all passion, brought groaning and grief
upon himself of his own accord. But this simplicity will, in my opinion, be
more agreeable to Scripture, if we say that the Son of God, having clothed
himself with our flesh, of his own accord clothed himself also with human
feelings, so that he did not differ at all from his brethren, sin only
excepted. In this way we detract nothing from the glory of Christ, when we say
that it was a voluntary submission, by which he was brought to resemble us in
the feelings of the soul. Besides, as he submitted from the very commencement,
we must not imagine that he was free and exempt from those feelings; and in
this respect he proved himself to be our brother, in order to assure us, that
we have a Mediator, who willingly pardons our infirmities, and who is ready to
assist those infirmities which he has experienced in himself.
It will perhaps be objected, that the passions of men are sinful, and
therefore it cannot be admitted that we have them in common with the Son of
God. I reply, there is a wide difference between Christ and us. For the reason
why our feelings are sinful is, that they rush on without restraint, and suffer
no limit; but in Christ the feelings were adjusted and regulated in obedience
to God, and were altogether free from sin. To express it more fully, the feelings of men are
sinful and perverse on two accounts; first, because they are hurried along by
impetuous motion, and are not regulated by the true rule of modesty; and,
secondly, because they do not always arise from a lawful cause, or, at least,
are not directed to a lawful end. I say that there is excess, because no person
rejoices or grieves, so far only as is sufficient, or as God permits, and there
are even some who shake themselves loose from all restraint. The vanity of our
understanding brings us grief or sadness, on account of trifles, or for no
reason whatever, because we are too much devoted to the world. Nothing of this
nature was to be found in Christ; for he had no passion or affection of his own
that ever went beyond its proper bounds; he had not one that was not proper,
and founded on reason and sound judgment.
To make this matter still more clear, it will be of importance for us to
distinguish between man’s first nature, as it was created by God, and this
degenerate nature, which is corrupted by sin. When God created man, he
implanted affections in him, but affections which were obedient and submissive
to reason. That those affections are now disorderly and rebellious is an
accidental fault; that is, it proceeds from some other cause than from the
Creator. [3] Now Christ took upon
him human affections, but without (ataxia) disorder; for he who obeys the
passions of the flesh is not obedient to God. Christ was indeed troubled and
vehemently agitated; but, at the same time, he kept himself in subjection to
the will of the Father. In short, if you compare his passions with ours, they
will differ not less than pure and clear water, flowing in a gentle course,
differs from dirty and muddy foam.
The example of Christ ought to be sufficient of itself for setting aside
the unbending sternness which the Stoics demand; for whence ought we to look
for the rule of supreme perfection but from Christ? We ought rather to endeavor
to correct and subdue that obstinacy which pervades our affections on account
of the sin of Adam, and, in so doing, to follow Christ as our leader, that he
may bring us into subjection. Thus Paul does not demand from us hardened
stupidity, but enjoins us to observe moderation
in our mourning, that we may not abandon ourselves
to grief, like unbelievers who have no
hope
(1Th 4:13);
for even Christ took our affections into himself, that by his power we
may subdue every thing in them that is sinful.
George Haydock
Ver. 35. Jesus wept. A mark of his
human nature, when he was going to give them a proof of his divinity, in
raising the dead to life. Wi.—The tears of the disconsolate sisters called
forth tears from the tender commiseration of Jesus. Nor was it unworthy the Son
of God to shed tears. See Luke 19:41. About to give proofs of his divinity in
raising the dead, he is pleased to give, first, undoubted proofs of his
humanity, that he might shew himself both God and man. (George Leo
Haydock, Haydock’s Catholic Bible
Commentary [New York: Edward Dunigan and Brother, 1859], Jn 11:35)
R. C. H.
Lenski
With gripping brevity and without a connective John writes: Jesus
wept. Now the verb used is not κλαίειν but δακρύειν—silent tears trickle
from his eyes as he walks toward the tomb with the company. It is true, indeed,
that this shortest verse in the Bible answers the criticism that has been
directed against the genuineness of John’s Gospel as painting an unhistorical
picture of Jesus, a being with nothing human about him except his outward
appearance, being all Logos, all deity. The simple fact is that Jesus is both
God and man and so truly man that he here weeps with those that weep.
Throughout John’s Gospel the human and the divine are combined, and both are
equally true. No criticism can ever separate the two. No historical Jesus
exists except the Jesus of the four Gospels. (R. C. H. Lenski, The
Interpretation of St. John's Gospel [Minneapolis, Minn.: Augsburg
Publishing House, 1961], 809-10)
William Hendriksen
35. Jesus burst into tears. This is the only place in the New Testament where this verb occurs. It is probably ingressive
aorist (ἐδάκρυσε). However, the noun (tear, tears) whose root enters into the formation of this
verb, is found also in Heb. 5:7 in connection with Jesus: “who in the days of
his flesh, having offered up prayers and supplications with strong crying and
tears unto him that was able to save him from death, and having been heard for
his godly fear,” etc. See also Mark 9:24; Luke 7:38, 44; Acts 20:19, 31; 2 Cor.
2:4; 2 Tim. 1:4; Heb. 12:17; Rev. 7:17; 21:4. In all these passages (beginning
with Mark 9:24) the tears are shed by others, not by Jesus. However, there
surely is a connection between 11:35 (“Jesus burst into tears”) and Rev. 7:17
(“God shall wipe away every tear from their eyes”): because of his tears ours
shall be wiped away.
Note the difference,
which cannot have been unintentional: in 11:31, 33 another verb is used (κλαίω) than here in 11:35. Mary and the Jews wept. In Mary’s case such weeping was,
of course, genuine, the expression of real, inner sorrow over the loss of a
dear brother. In the case of the Jews it was, in many cases, probably
tantamount to wailing. See on 16:20.
The verb κλαίω does not necessarily or always mean to wail (hence, in the sense of weeping,
not wailing, it can be used even with reference to Jesus, Luke 19:41: Jesus
wept over Jerusalem) but can have that meaning (Mark 5:38, 39). The verb δακρύω, used here in 11:35 does not mean to wail. These tears were the expression
of love, love not only for Lazarus (as the Jews thought, 11:37) but also for
Mary, Martha and others (see on 11:33). They were tears of genuine sympathy
(Heb. 4:15; cf. Rom. 12:15).
In connection with
these tears the remark is often made that they prove Jesus’ true humanity. This
is certainly correct (see also Vol. I, p. 84). The Fourth Gospel (the very book
which stresses Christ’s deity, Vol.
I, pp. 33–35) describes him as being not only absolutely divine but also truly
human. It must be stressed, however, that these tears of our Lord were
unaccompanied by sin. They were not the tears of the professional mourner, nor
those of the sentimentalist, but those of the pure and holy, sympathizing
Highpriest! They proceeded from the most genuine love for man found in the
entire universe, the love which gave itself.
(William Hendriksen, Exposition of the Gospel According to John,
2 vols. [Grand Rapids, Mich.: Baker Book House, 1953], 2:155-56)
Sacrae Theologiae Summa on the Sadness of Christ and the Soul of Jesus Always Beholding the Beatific Vision
365. Scholium 4. An explanation of Christ’s sadness. There is a big difficulty from the beatific vision of the soul of Christ . . . Since it seems that joy necessarily follows from this vision, but it is not apparent how such joy can be together with sadness, there have not been lacking theologians who, because of Christ’s sadness, denied is blessed joy during the time of the passion. But if you make an exception for these few authors, the common opinion of theologians refuses to admit such a limitation of joy in Christ.
From the treatise on the last things it is certain that the impassibility of a glorified body is derived from the blessed soul, and in such a way that it is something intrinsic to the body, as the almost common opinion holds against Scotus and some others. Likewise, most theologians holds that the impassibility overflows into the body not physically and effectively from the beatific vision, but only morally or by a certain fitting ordination of God that in its own way is connatural to the beatific state.
366. The sensible sadness of Christ is explained more easily. For on the part of the object, the beatifying joy of the soul and the sensible sadness do not exclude each other, because they are not related to the same object; for the object of joy is the possession of the divine goodness, while the object of sadness is some injury, both one’s own and that of someone else. And there is no repugnance on the part of the overflowing: “That the glory of His soul did not overflow into His body from the first moment of Christ’s conception was due to a certain Divine dispensation, that He might fulfill the mysteries of our redemption in a passible body.”
367. Spiritual sadness or sadness in the will itself is more difficult to understand, if indeed it is the will itself that is affected by beatifying joy. But it is possible to understand it from the difference of the formal object. For the same material object, v.gr., the partial frustration of his passion and death with the consequent damnation of many men, which Christ saw in God by his knowledge of vision, as permitted by God and therefore lovable, by his infused and acquired knowledge he could apprehend the same thing as something evil in itself.
368. The possibility of spiritual sadness is not excluded on the part of the subject or from the opposite way in which joy and sadness affect the subject, especially when the greatest joy affects some subject. Namely, it would seem that there is no place in a soul that is already totally beatified for a contrary affection, that is, sadness. A solution may be found in the fact that joy and sadness do not have their own contrariness, unless in a particular cause they are concerned with absolutely the same thing both materially and formally. However although they do not have a strict contrariety, still there is great diversity between them and a certain repugnance, so that without a miracle they could not coexist in the same subject. (Iesu Solano and J. A. de Aldama, Sacrae Theologiae Summa, 4 vols. [trans. Kenneth Baker; Keep the Faith, Inc., 2014], 3-A: 166-68)
All this shows how utterly bogus Daniel Constantino's "I love you" text message comment to show the perspicuity of the Bible.